


Killjoys at Pride (request)

by Rocknoutfrthdead



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), My Chemical Romance, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Friendship, Gen, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Wordcount: Over 1.000, s/c/a/r/e/c/r/o/w redemption, this was fun to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24113074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocknoutfrthdead/pseuds/Rocknoutfrthdead
Summary: Dallas Richardson is a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W. His job is murdering killjoys. Read on to find out more.
Relationships: Original Character/Original Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3
Collections: Danger Days One Shot Requests!





	Killjoys at Pride (request)

The sun beat down from above, a blinding white ball of flame that made patrolling the desert an even worse task than it already was. Dallas Richardson hated his job, hated the heat of the sun, hated how he was sweating through the heavy material of his S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W uniform. But most of all, he hated the killjoys. If the group of rebellious teens could simply settle for life in Battery City like everyone else, Dallas wouldn’t have to be out here in the hot sun in the middle of June. 

Dallas continued to drive, on the lookout for killjoys. There was a certain group of four teens that he was especially worried about: they called themselves the “Fabulous Four” and they’d been a real thorn in the side of the City for the past few months. If Dallas could kill them, he might finally get to retire. And then he’d no longer have to spend his days sweating through his clothes, driving through the mostly empty desert. 

It was late in the day when Dallas saw the first sign that something odd was going on. He’d stopped for a bit in the shade of a decrepit old building when he noticed that the sand in front of him was tamped down with the footprints of what must have been hundreds of feet. Confused, Dallas decided to investigate further. He followed the footprints, blaster in hand. Eventually, Dallas reached the crest of a hill and looked down. He gasped. There was a huge crowd of killjoys, more than he’d ever seen in one place at once, and they were spread in a disorganized line across the desert. 

The colors were what struck Dallas first: the killjoys were a rainbow of hair dye, colorful clothing, skin tones, and colorful striped flags. The second thing he was surprised by was the sound. Killjoys were singing, yelling, chanting, seemingly with no real pattern or organization. He’d never heard anything like it. The chaos was pounding, threatening. He couldn’t understand it, and that scared him.

Dallas knew he couldn’t take on this many killjoys at once. He was alone, and even if he called for backup, no way would anyone believe him that hundreds of killjoys were just having a party in the middle of the desert. So he decided to follow them, in the hopes that they might show him where their bases were. Maybe the Fabulous Four were in this crowd. 

The crowd seemed to be celebrating something, but Dallas wasn’t sure what. Kids waved colorful striped flags in the air, kissed each other, belted out random phrases that others somehow knew the response to. It was all very strange. Dallas tried to scan the crowd for the Fabulous Four: he knew what they looked like, had seen their wanted posters hundreds of times. He knew Party Poison’s bright red hair, Jet Star’s signature jacket, Kobra Kid’s bandana, and Fun Ghoul’s ratty green vest. He’d memorized the structures of their faces, the patterns of their clothes, the emblems they had emblazoned on their guns and jackets. And yet he couldn’t find them in this crowd. 

Dallas pushed through the crowd, hand on his gun, guessing that the Four might be at the front of this gathering. He accidentally knocked into an older killjoy with bright purple hair, their dark skin covered in what looked like scars from shootouts. “Sorry,” the killjoy muttered, glancing at him. 

“Wait a sec. Are you a ‘crow? What’re you doing at Pride? Is this an operation?”

Dallas stumbled back, surprised. He couldn’t let his cover get blown, not when he was so close to possibly finding the Four. “I’m not a ‘crow,” he lied.

The killjoy gave him a skeptical look. “Then why d’you look so lost out here? You seem a bit old for this to be your first Pride.”

“I’ve just… kept to myself most of the time. What’s Pride?” Dallas asked, hoping to get the killjoy to reveal some information on whether or not this was an attack on Battery City or something. 

The killjoy snorted. “Pride is an ancient tradition. It used to be done in the City, before BLI took over. People would take to the streets and celebrate everything that made others ostracize them. Specifically relating to gender, sexuality, and romantic orientation.”

Dallas didn’t know what sexuality or romantic orientation were, and he only vaguely knew that gender had something to do with being a boy or a girl, but he nodded. “So, why do killj- I mean, why do we celebrate this?”

The killjoy gave him a questioning glance, but then said, “because most of us are ostracized from the City because of our orientations. I don’t think I could name a single killjoy who’s entirely cishet.”

“What do you mean, cishet?” Dallas asked, genuinely curious now. He rarely encountered words he didn’t know. 

“People who are their assigned gender, and are romantically and sexually hetero,” the killjoy replied. “You seriously have never heard the term before?”

Dallas shrugged. “I don’t get out much.”

“Huh. Okay, weirdo. My name’s Twisted Toxin. Nice to meet ya. Would you like me to be your guide out here? You seem like you need it.”

Dallas squinted at Toxin, trying to figure out if they had some ulterior motive, but the gesture seemed genuine. Little do they know, I’m using them. Dallas thought. “Sure, I’d love to have a guide. My name’s Dallas.”

Toxin raised an eyebrow. “Just Dallas?”

He nodded. “Just Dallas.”

Toxin shrugged. “Fair enough. Stick with me, Dallas, and you won’t get lost. Pride can be a little overwhelming.”

Dallas shrugged and followed Toxin. He’d ask about the Four once they let their guard down. At least, that was what Dallas told himself.

The time passed quickly. Dallas clung to Toxin like they were his only lifeline, and the two of them wove throughout the crowd, Toxin pointing out different sights to Dallas. “We’ve figured out that certain flag colors represent different genders and sexualities, through reading ancient texts preserved from before the war,” Toxin told him. “The rainbow ones are for the whole community, the blue, purple, and pink ones are for people who like two or more genders, the pink, blue, and white ones are for people who feel more comfortable as a different gender.”

“Which ones do you use?” Dallas asked.

Toxin smiled. “I’m genderfluid, which has a pink, white, purple, black, and blue flag, and also pan, which has a blue, yellow, and pink flag. You’ve seriously never seen one before?”

Dallas shook his head. “I guess they just don’t have this stuff in my part of the desert,” he said. Inside, he wondered if anyone in the city knew about any of this stuff. He doubted it. 

Time passed quickly at pride, and before Dallas knew it, the celebration was coming to an end. He hadn’t even had the chance to ask about the Four. “Toxin, I-” he began, but the killjoy shushed him.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, D. I had fun walkin’ you around. And if you want, I can give ya a place to crash. You don’t have a gang, do you?”

Dallas hadn’t been planning on thanking Toxin. But what the hell? Maybe he should go with them. It would be easier to face the Four if he wasn’t in the middle of a huge group anyway. And Toxin probably knew where to find them. Dallas shrugged. “Sure, I’ll go with you. Thanks.”

Weeks later, Dallas still hadn’t asked about the Four. He had, however, taken on the pseudonym Frosty Firework. He kept telling himself that today would be the day that he got Toxin to tell him where the Four were, but it never ended up happening. There was just too much to do in the day, or Toxin was getting suspicious of him, or some other excuse. Firework tried to convince himself that he was still a loyal BLI employee, but it got harder day by day. And it got harder the more he knew about Toxin. 

One night, as he and Toxin lay under the stars next to the dying embers of their fire, he asked them, “Why do you hate Better Living? I mean, what made you come out here instead of staying in the City?”

Toxin shrugged. “I guess for me, it was a gradual realization. I can’t remember my City days very well, they were a long time ago, but I think what got me to run was when I realized that I was… different in a way that the City couldn’t understand. Like, whenever I was there, there was this internal feeling that everything was not right. So eventually I decided to run. What about you, Frosty? Why’d you run?”

Firework inhaled deeply. “Back in the City, I was a ‘crow. And I didn’t like my job, exactly, but it paid well, and I was good at it, so I kept it up. But then, one day, I was patrolling the desert, and somehow I ended up talking with a killjoy, and I realized that maybe killing teenagers who’re just trying to find a place for themselves wasn’t very noble. In fact, it was just kind of a dick move.”

Toxin smiled knowingly. “Yeah. I’m glad you’re out here with me, Frosty. I can’t imagine… I can’t imagine what it would be like if you were trying to kill me.”

Firework looked into Toxin’s eyes, searching for some sort of sarcasm, but he detected none. “Yeah. I can’t imagine it either,” he said softly. They sat in silence for a few heartbeats.

Toxin stood. “I need to piss. Be back in a minute.”

Firework nodded, and turned towards the dying fire, contemplating something. He pulled out his old city identification card. “ **Dallas Richardson, S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Unit** ,” it read. He tossed it into the flames. “I’m Frosty Firework now,” he whispered. “And I’m not going to murder killjoys anymore.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a one shot requested on tumblr! if you want to request something, I'm @rocknoutfrthdead and my inbox is always open!


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